Calm Before the Storm
by skywolf666
Summary: All of the professionalism in the world didn't matter when it came to vengeance, even when they both knew it was a foolhardy endeavour he was ready to rush headlong into. He wouldn't be talked out of it, and she found herself rather unwilling to try when he explained exactly why he would do so. Plus, he owed her a debt. He would not die until he repaid it. (B!SiblingxShamir)


**White Clouds**

**Garreg Mach (Training Grounds)**

**Guardian Moon**

**Year 1180**

Warin was a whirlwind, his lance slashing, stabbing, parrying in quick, ferocious strikes that would have left anyone in range of his weapon scurrying far and away from him from the multitude of wounds they would have accrued in mere moments from his movements. Yet, despite his flurry, he was tightly controlled. Not once did he lose his grasp of his weapon, and never once did a strike go wide, or miss its mark. He had been improving vastly in the last several moons, and in the past handful of days, he had doubled his training and become even more strict with himself. It showed in the set of his jaw, in the glint of his eyes, and he was aware that both his attitude, and his new training regiment, had left him even more isolated than usual.

Nobody dared approach him. For the past week, he had been left almost entirely to his own devices. Only his sister had dared to come near him, and that had been a short, painful, and mostly accidental visit that he hadn't wished to dwell on. He had found her in their father's office, scarcely two days after his death, pouring over his diary in silence and completely alone. She had leapt like a scorched cat at the sight of him, as if she was committing some crime by being there without his permission, but he had been quick to let her know he didn't mind. She was there because his father had told her to come there, to search for his diary in case something had happened to him before they could speak, and she was only now taking her time to understand the past that her family had been keeping hidden from her.

She still had much to adjust to, much to drink in from all that Jeralt had wrote, and Warin had known it was not the time to discuss what little she had learned. That would come later, when more time had passed and the wounds had begun to heal, but that was not just yet. So he had told her to take the diary with her, to read it as she saw fit, and when the time came, to come looking for him again. Then they could speak at length, trade opinions and ideas, but such a time could wait. They both were not ready for such a talk. To really face the situation that had come too fast for them. They needed time, and only time would be the balm to their open, oozing wounds.

Raine had nodded, agreeing with him soundlessly, but she had paused before leaving. Her red-rimmed eyes had flickered over him curiously as she held Jeralt's diary to her chest, and Warin had known exactly what it was she was thinking without her needing to ask. He had dug under his jacket, pulling gently at the silver chain that he had been wearing ever since he was child to reveal the object he knew she had been searching for. His mother's ring dangled gently from his necklace in the open, and he wondered errantly how long it had been since he had allowed it be exposed. His father had given it to him not long after fleeing the monastery, though at the time, he hadn't understood why. Only now did he know it was his father's way of giving him an object to focus his grief on, as they had no grave to mourn to.

_Raine knew what it was the moment her eyes fell on it, and she wondered again at her father's prose as it matched exactly with the description he had written of it. The ring was beautiful, and she could imagine it fitting perfectly on her mother's hand after she had accepted his proposal. She had assumed her father had kept it close, to help him mourn his wife, but she wasn't exactly surprised to see that it had found a home with her brother, instead. It was exactly something that Jeralt would have done for his son, to give him a connection to the woman he had lost and loved, and she found herself smiling slightly for the first real time in days as she asked softly, "Have you had it all this time?"_

_"I have." Warin was aware she knew, or at least had guessed it, from the lack of surprise in her eyes. He clasped the ring gently, running his fingers lovingly over the silver and the gems that he had caressed countless times. It had been more than a source of comfort for him over the years, and he knew he would have gone mad without it. His father had saved his life and his heart by parting with the dear memento for him, and the thought made his throat tighten for a moment. He released his hold on it before gesturing forward to his sister, and he spoke quietly when he offered, "Do you want to hold onto it for a little while?"_

_"No... He gave it to you for a reason. I know he wanted you to give it to someone important someday." Raine gestured slightly to the diary she was cradling to her chest, and her smile was sad, but genuine as she remarked on her father's wishes. He had written of that, too, of his hopes that his children would find spouses that they loved just as much as he had loved his. His only regret was that he only had one ring to gift them, and that he could not afford to buy another of similar quality. That however didn't bother her a whit. Her brother was the eldest, and he had known their mother. It only made sense that he keep it. "It's yours, Warin."_

_"I've had it with me ever since Mother passed. Giving it to you for a little while won't harm me, Raine." It wasn't much of an argument he tried to make, already knowing that Raine would not be convinced, but he owed it to her to try anyhow. He had read that diary, too, and he was well aware of his how father felt about the ring, and about his wishes for it. He planned to follow through with them, at least eventually, but such thoughts were far and away from him at the moment. He did not have any desires for companionship. Not just yet. Getting through the days as they came were difficult enough. Finding a partner to share the load with him, a load he didn't want anyone to have to bear... No. He didn't want to subject anyone to that, even if they _were_ willing._

_"It's all right, Warin. I have this, and it'll do me good in the interim... I have a lot to read, and reread, it seems." Raine reaffirmed her decision with a sombre nod, and she was glad when her brother raised his hands in a sign of surrender. The diary was more precious to her than the ring, though she knew it wasn't entirely fair of her to say so. But she didn't know their mother. Not yet, anyway. She was learning of her quickly through her father's entries, and was finding herself being filled with a bittersweet sort of happiness at the knowledge. Her father had loved her mother dearly, more than life itself, and his grief had been deep and almost untouchable when he had lost her. It was something she was understanding all too well herself now, and she was grateful, bitterly grateful, that even beyond the grave her father still had much to teach her. "We'll talk again, when I'm finished?"_

_Warin nodded. He understood, and he wasn't going to push her any farther. He had seen her visit the grave, now made for two, and he felt for her to know that she was only now learning of the mother he had been mourning all his life. But he didn't begrudge her. It was a process, a process for the both of them to walk through, and he would give her all the time that she needed before she was ready. It wasn't as if he was ready at the current moment, either. So, he nodded and gestured in the vague direction of the knights' barracks,"You know where to find me, then."_

_"Of course. And... Big Brother?"_

_"Yeah?" Warin turned, both a little surprised and unsure of how to think from her sudden change of using his name to a title she had never really used before beyond their childhood. She had always preferred to call him by his name, almost as if it was a verbal tic. Perhaps it was because of how they had been surrounded by so many people who wouldn't call him by anything else, even if he was Jeralt's eldest son, and the eventual successor to his title and band. His hand remained on the door, and though he wondered, he knew better than to dismiss her sudden change. A lot had already disrupted their life. If this was her way of dealing with it, he would not ask questions. He had no right to. So instead, all he could do was reply, "What is it?"_

_"I love you. I just... wanted to say that. I'll see you later."_

Even now, her words echoed loudly in his head and made his teeth grit down as he whirled faster, holding his lance tighter for harsher, more damaging blows. He knew why she said it, despite how obviously uncomfortable and anxious she felt when using those words aloud, and the thought only made him simmer with quiet anger. She was afraid. It was as clear as the daylight that she was terrified of losing someone else, without fully articulating the way she felt about them, even if they were fully aware. It was a part of her scarring, a part of her loss, and he did not begrudge her for it. Not _her_, anyway.

His swings came harder, striking wood over and over and over and sending chips and flakes and shards every which way with his every movement. He had long since left the training dummies behind, now searching for harder, sturdier targets that could take his strength and help him build up his own and his endurance. He had no partners, at least nobody that seemed willing to try him in the midst of his grief, and those who would likely be willing were sent out on missions and away from the monastery. No, he was quite alone, and that he only took comfort in the fact that by training alone, pushing himself without anyone else around, was making sure nobody else would get harmed no matter how hard he pushed himself.

"I heard I'd find you here."

Warin twitched at the sound of Shamir's voice from behind him, and he allowed himself to stop despite the fact that his adrenaline was still pumping wildly in his temples. His hands ached with the desire to keep moving, and his body felt tense and strained all at once, but he stilled himself all the same. There wasn't much choice, when she was the one who had come calling on him. Especially when he had thought her long gone, sent off by the archbishop to find Jeralt's killers, just as all the other knights had been sent. Seeing her back was a surprise, though not a wholly unwelcome one, and he let out a breath as he turned to see her standing in the doorway of the knights' training grounds and watching him with a raised eyebrow, "Hello, Shamir. I wasn't aware you were back already."

"Only to give my report. I'm to be heading back out tomorrow." Shamir replied briskly, but her calm, quick facts didn't quite match up with the look she was wearing as she studied him closely. He could well imagine what she was seeing. He had been at it for quite a few hours. He was sweaty, dirty, and exhausted... but he had no desire to quit. And he had been following this routine for several days, with no break, or rest from it. He couldn't be looking healthy, despite the fact that he wasn't yet feeling it. And she confirmed that for him almost immediately and with no fanfare or hedging, "You look ready to keel over. Have you ever heard of taking a break?"

"Yes... but I'm not planning on stopping." Warin admitted with a sigh, but his actions betrayed his words as he set aside his lance and turned to look at her head-on. She was leaning on the doorframe, and her eyebrows lifted a bit more at his admittance, but she didn't move, or try to scold him. It was something he appreciated about her. Her blunt frankness, and her unwillingness to stand fools, no matter their rank, gender, or status. She'd turn it on him without hesitation, but something seemed to be keeping her from it. It made him wonder, and he tilted his head as he questioned, "Another delivery to make? I have to assume you're here for a reason. If you're heading out tomorrow, you ought to be resting, not hanging around here."

"What I do with my spare time is my own business. But, yes, there is a bit of a delivery to make." Shamir waved away his comment idly, but the look in her eyes proved that she wasn't feeling quite as flippant as she was trying to sound. She had only just left the main chambers on the second floor after giving Rhea and Seteth her initial report before receiving her second mission, and with it had come explicit instructions that she was to send on down the line. To say that she disliked being treated like a messenger pigeon was an understatement, yet, some part of her did understand the reasoning.

It wasn't as if Rhea was about to give Warin this particular set of orders herself... She knew just as well as anyone else did that it could very well turn into a verbal brawl of violent proportions if she did so, and she was wisely keeping herself out of it by using Shamir as a proxy. She had made the same decision by keeping Raine out of the loop, but she had underestimated the loyalty of the Blue Lions. The moment the notice had gone out amongst the knights, the house had somehow learned of it, and had quickly trotted back to their professor to inform her of the real goings-on of the knights. She was not blind to the fact that the church was trying to keep them away from their search for those behind Remire, and Jeralt's murder. Nobody truly was. And to think that it could be kept secret was almost amusing.

Still. Shamir wondered if now Rhea was ceasing with the charade because she had finally come to terms that it was clearly not working. Her inability to do so herself was irritating, understandable, but still irritating all the same. Shamir was not interested in being made a patsy for Warin's anger, and it was very likely that he would be angry and choose to shoot the messenger involved, even knowing full well it wasn't their fault. But could she blame him for that? She was about to tell him that the church had decided he and his sister would have zero involvement whatsoever with eliminating the threats that had caused them so much personal tragedy these past few moons.

"If you're here to tell me I've been ordered to stay at the monastery this moon, you don't need to say anything. I already know."

Shamir closed her eyes for a brief moment as a smile threatened to curl her lips as she understood and accepted her mistake. Warin was brash and hotheaded... but he wasn't an idiot. Of course he would have figured it out himself by now, orders or no orders. He didn't mistake anyone's actions for something was simple as sympathy. He mistrusted the church. Mistrusted Rhea. Of course he would be looking for any potential double meanings in their actions, even something as simple as being told to "take time to mourn" wouldn't sound innocent to his ears, and he didn't need her telling him straight out to have understood he was being sidelined, and not because of his grief. She let out a breath, shaking her head as she leaned back on the wall and remarked, "Well, that _did_ save me a trip... but, since I'm already here, why don't you indulge me? How did you know?"

"Raine found out from Dimitri. I didn't need anyone to tell me I was being kept away from the investigation. When the knights started leaving, I knew." Warin explained with an errant shrug of his shoulders, and he glanced back at the block of wood he had been using to vent his anger on. It was a mess, and needed a replacement, and he idly began unscrewing it from the waist-high base it had been set on so he could get about with starting up again as he continued in a surprisingly offhanded tone, "Let me guess... I'd be a hazard to the investigation, and would likely hinder any intelligence gathering due to my emotional involvement? Or, maybe, I'd be liable to kill first, and ask questions later? Or perhaps I'm too traumatized to be out on the battlefield so soon after Father's death? Have I hit the mark, or should I keep going?"

The flippant way he spoke could have been unnerving to anyone else, but Shamir had to admit that she found it darkly amusing to hear him going on in such a way. It was worse that he was accurate, that he had gone through all the arguments that had been risen to keep him out of the missions being assigned to every single available knight at the monastery. He was a smart man. Smarter than he looked. And she had to admit she was admiring him more and more with his frank attitude and completely shameless way of speaking. "I suppose you hit multiple targets, if you want me to be honest. Though, these orders are coming from the top, so I don't think you'll have any way to worm your way out of them. You're going to be watched very closely until this is over."

"If Rhea thinks she can stop me, or my sister, from going after the bitch responsible for burying my father, than she's a fool." In any other circumstance, Warin would have never dared to say such words aloud, but he was well aware of just how alone he and Shamir were, and that knowledge made him absolutely fearless. He finished his task and turned about to face the teal-wearing mercenary, and his eyes were flashing fire as he smiled darkly and with grim anticipation of the battle to come when he continued flatly, "I know the knights will eventually track the lot of them all down. That's only a matter of time. But when the moment comes for that bitch to get what's coming to her... Nobody will be able to stop me, or Raine, from leading the charge."

"Fighting blindly from anger is how you get killed on the battlefield." Shamir's response was blunt, and held absolutely no sympathy despite the fact that she did understand exactly where Warin was coming from with his words. She understood his lust for vengeance. She also understood that telling him he shouldn't embark on such a venture was foolish. He wouldn't listen to her. He wouldn't listen to anyone. And what made it worse was that he already knew what a risk it was, that he was playing much too close to death with his desire for revenge, but he was set to go anyway despite it all. She wasn't entirely sure if she was saddened or disappointed by that knowledge, but she wasn't at all surprised. He had lost his father. He was in mourning, and he was enraged. He needed to find a place to put that anger, and it made sense that he wanted to put it directly in the woman responsible for burying his father.

"I know. But short of chaining me up, I still don't intend to just sit idly by when the fight eventually comes. Nor will Raine." Warin shrugged his shoulders at Shamir's warning, but in truth, he had expected it. She was a professional. Every last inch of her was. And she knew, better than anyone else, that mixing emotions with the battlefield was a sure-fire way to get herself, or her comrades, killed. He did not begrudge her for her knowledge or her experience, nor did he intend to belittle her for her caution. It was the right way to go about it, and even he knew that... but he could not change how he felt, and how he intended to deal with those emotions when the time came. "She'll go, with or without me, when the time comes. So, I'll go with her. She's... not used to fighting angry. At least there, I have something of an advantage."

That raised Shamir's eyebrows somewhat, and she did admit she hadn't expected to hear that Warin's goals were intermingled with a desire to protect as well as find vengeance. She hadn't thought of it like that, but then again, she hadn't thought much about Raine at all. The woman was still an enigma, even if she was slowly, surely, beginning to unravel. The word had spread fast about what had happened to Jeralt and the circumstances behind it, and everyone was acutely aware of the fact that the previously unemotional woman had been found weeping uncontrollably over the corpse of her father. It was not the kind of whispering Shamir wanted to hear, but it also hadn't really made her think that the woman's thoughts were turning to revenge and not lingering on her grief. And her grief was palpable, despite her heroic attempts to continue on with "regular life".

Raine was still leaving her quarters every day, instructing her students, planning her lessons, and training whenever she had a spare moment. It was true that her expression was distant, and her eyes were haunted, but she had continued on with her regular schedule as if nothing had really changed. And apart from a few awkward conversations throughout the monastery... No one seemed willing, or brave enough, to try to tell her to take her time. If she chose to deal with her grief by powering through it, even if only for the sake of her students, then that was simply what she was going to do. Nobody had the courage to challenge her. Perhaps because they sensed her anger, simmering underneath her sadness. Shamir wasn't entirely sure. She hadn't had the chance to speak to her, and honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to. She was not the comforting type.

Still, Warin's proclamation gave her pause. She had already figured out Warin's weakness was also Jeralt's, but this was going somewhat beyond what she had expected of him. He was juggling both his desire for vengeance with his desire to protect his sister, his last living relative, and the logic he was using wasn't something she could easily challenge. His conclusion was relatively sound, even if it was still too risky for her tastes... but how exactly could she call him idiotic for wishing to keep his sister from harm in the only way he really could? If the tables were turned, would she really be the last to do the same? She wasn't quite sure she could say so, and it made her speak slowly as she muttered, "So, then, this isn't _just_ about revenge, but also about you trying to keep your sister from doing something stupid in the pursuit of it?"

The question made Warin grimace, and he had to shake his head despite the accuracy. It just sounded wrong to his ears. He settled the next log onto the screw, but he didn't bother trying to put it properly in place as he turned around to face Shamir. She was frowning at him, but not in a judgemental sort of way. Rather, she almost looked... confused? He understood why she might be, and he wasn't about to judge her on it, even if he disliked the fact that he obviously needed to explain himself. He scratched absently at his cheek as he explained somewhat awkwardly, "It's not really like that. I want revenge just as badly as she does. Protecting her while going for it doesn't make my motives any more pure, if you can even call them that... I know what I'm doing is stupid. And I know the risks involved... but I intend to do it anyhow. It's selfishness, and stupidity."

"At least you're self-aware." It wasn't a compliment, and it sure didn't sound like one, but Shamir couldn't quite help the fact that her lips quirked all the same at his scathing self-reflection. It wasn't much, hearing him say that he knew he was stupid even as he ploughed on ahead, but it was better than him trying to justify his actions. Even if only a little. She wasn't about to condone what he planned on doing, and she certainly would be amongst the first to try to stop him when it did eventually come to that, but knowing he was aware went a long way to stopping her from being annoyed at him for the trouble he was going to cause.

"I may be more furious than I've ever been in my life, and feeling the worst sort of grief I've ever known, but I haven't lost all of my sense." Warin admitted with a wry chuckle, and he shook his head before running a hand tiredly through his sweat-soaked hair. He wondered why he felt so calm, despite the fact that some dark, wild part of him was still running rampant somewhere deep in his chest. Was he simply waiting for the right time to unleash it? Allowing it to build and fester, until he could safely let it loose without anyone else getting caught in the crossfire? He wasn't sure. But he decided it didn't matter as he admitted almost sheepishly as he turned back to his task so he wouldn't need to look at the sniper when he spoke, "I blame you for that, if you want to know."

That last part certainly was unexpected, and Shamir wasn't quite sure what to think of it as she watched him silently fuss with his new block for a solid minute. It didn't sound like a compliment, and yet he had made sure she was looking at his back rather than his face when he said it. And even when he finished twisting the screws in, he wasn't turning around, and that only made her feel awkward. What was it that he meant, and why did she really not like the fact that he said it? Why did she also feel that she _did _like it? It was rather annoying, and it forced her to speak despite the fact that she wasn't sure she wanted him to elaborate, "I'm sorry? What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You said I reminded you of your old partner. You also said you lost him." Warin's answer was brusque, as if he didn't want to give it, but at her urging he spoke all the same, and there was an undercurrent of apology in his tone despite the blunt words he used. He finished his fussing, as there was no real reason to keep up the charade just because of his awkwardness, and he turned around to meet her surprised violet eyes head-on. She looked rather taken aback by the mention of what she had shared with him, and he winced inwardly as he wondered if perhaps he had made a mistake. It was too late however to take back what he had said, so instead he simply soldiered on, well aware that he was possibly digging himself even deeper as he did so and fully accepting the consequences of it, "This is something I have to do, and so I'm going to do it... but I'm also not going to be reckless, and possibly get myself killed when it happens. I don't intend to be so much like your old partner that you end up losing me, as well. The last thing I want to do to anyone is have them mourn me."

Shamir felt her face grow uncomfortably warm, and she abruptly spun about on her heel to hide it from him before it grew hotter underneath that surprisingly earnest stare of his. She had absolutely no idea how he could say such things aloud and with such sincerity, and worse, she didn't know why it shook her so badly. She had indeed compared him to her old partner, though much of their similarities were turning out to be lesser than she had first thought... This however? This almost was approaching territory that she had deemed completely off limits. Yet she didn't feel angry, or offended at the trespass. It wasn't as if he had said anything even remotely insulting. If anything, she felt almost flattered that he was considering her emotions, and that only made her stomach tighten even more as she replied quickly, sharply, "Th-That's nonsense. If you don't want anyone to mourn you, then don't do stupid things from the outset. Anything else is just hypocritical sentiment."

"You're right, there. As always." Warin agreed with a smile as her heat splashed on him like a fire spell, but he allowed it roll harmlessly off of his back. He had earned it. There was no way he was about to argue after touching a nerve as he had. It wasn't right of him, even if it was how he felt about things. She obviously didn't want to hear it, and he fully intended to respect her boundaries regardless of how he himself felt about things. "Sorry. I didn't mean to touch a nerve."

Shamir twitched at the apology that wasn't really necessary, and she had to pinch the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to get herself back under control. It took her a moment, but after a breath or two she finally managed to turn halfway and look at him without fully giving him a chance to really see her expression. He made her feel on edge with just a handful of words, and she shook her head as she sighed raggedly, "You didn't... touch a nerve, per say. It's just irritating, for everyone, to be in this situation. I know it's unfair, and I'm aware you can keep your head if you were permitted to join us on our missions... but vouching for you now is a little less then useless."

"I appreciate the sentiment, nonetheless. But you likely shouldn't." Warin dismissed the words with a wave of his hand, and his lips pulled up into a faint smile at the thought of her vouching for him against all of the knights and the archbishop herself. She would do it if she felt it was the right course of action. Of course she would. She was pragmatic to a fault. This, however, was not a situation that called for pragmatism. He was aware where he stood in the eyes of the knights, and there would be no changing that perception. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to make an attempt. Why bother? They had never been on friendly terms with him before, and it was unlikely that they would now. Even if they made an attempt, it would only be an attempt made out of pity, and he wanted that almost even less. "I know public opinion is against me. No need to turn it against you, too."

Shamir shook her head as she understood she had stumbled upon another weakness of his that she hadn't assumed he had, and likely knew that very few would ever think to apply it to him. He was distant, almost detached, but that was simply a front. A good front, yes, but a front all the same. He cared, and he cared deeply, for the people that managed to slide under his shields, or those who had never seen them in the first place. It was not just his sister that had his loyalty and love, no matter what it might seem to any outsider who didn't care to give him a second glance. "You realize that you care too much, right? What happens to me is of no consequence to you. I'm already an outsider, remember?"

"You've still been here longer than I have, and you've friends here." Warin pointed out without missing a beat, and Shamir had to wonder if he was even aware of the fact that he was allowing her to see exactly where to strike him if the opportunity ever arose. He normally seemed so much more careful. The sudden turnabout, the show of ease, somehow was making _her_ uncomfortable, and that only served to irritate her. He seemed to be aware of this, much to her relief, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he waved his hand again and returned to the subject at hand idly, "But it doesn't really matter. What's done is done at this point. I'm aware of the orders, and for the moment, I'll play the good soldier and follow them... but when Raine moves, I intend to do the same. If you're there to stop me at the time... Well, I personally hope you won't be, but I'll prepare for it."

The words succeeded in drawing a smile from her despite it all, and she wondered at him for what had to be the fifth time since she had come to see him training. He was a marvel. Irritating, entertaining, shameless, and still somehow filling her with the urge to flatten him like she had the tendency to do every time they crossed lances. Even though he had gotten much better since they had begun their sparring, he had unfortunately given her a great opportunity to improve her own lancework at the same time. She had already had a head-start, and she was planning on keeping her advantage for as long as she could. The thought only made her remark half-playfully at his words, "Are you worried that I'll put you on your back again if I am?"

"Well, yes, but that's not my main concern." Warin admitted with a low chuckle, and he was not ashamed to cede to the fact that she was better than him at lancing, and he was still not anywhere near her level. It was why he was training so hard now, why he was putting aside his gauntlets for the time being, but he knew even that would not help him close the gap quickly enough. If she came to stop him personally, she very will could and would put him flat on his back if she chose to, and he wasn't about to dismiss that difference in strength. The thought however of crossing lances in any other form than sparring... He shook his head and ran his hand again through his hair as he continued sombrely, "I'd rather not fight you at all. I owe you a debt. I'd like to have a chance to start to repay it, before something foolish like that happens."

Again he caught her off guard and confused her, and Shamir tilted her head as she tried to understand exactly what he was saying. Just when she thought she had him pinned down he escaped her grasp and turned into something else entirely. It was vexing. She couldn't begin to think of what sort of debt he owed her. They had fought side by side plenty of times before, and sparred even more since becoming "partners", but nothing had happened that warranted the word "debt". If he saved her life on the battlefield, that was simply the way of things. She would always be ready to return the favour, and she had more times than either of them could count. That was not debt-worthy. It was simply being soldiers. He knew that as well as she did, which only meant that whatever debt he had concocted up had not occurred there... and she was again forced to ask him for clarification she wasn't entirely sure she wanted, "You're doing it again. What do you mean?"

"It wasn't just the rain that day." Navy caught pale violet, and Shamir felt her feet grow roots at the sudden intensity that bloomed in his eyes as he held them with a fearlessness she normally only saw when he had a weapon in his hand. His head tilted slightly, as if he was a tomcat that was sizing up a mouse, but his voice was calm, smooth, and surprisingly intimate as he continued on without a pause or a care in the world, "You knew that, just as well as I did. Yet, you still played along. I don't know why you did. It's not your way. But, I don't intend to ask. I don't think I want to hear the answer, if you even have one. But I will remember it, for as long as I live. That's the debt. I'll repay it, somehow, eventually. I'd like to hope under happier circumstances, but we both know the world isn't that kind. Still... It is what it is. Until that day comes, I'd prefer not to be put in a position where our lances cross in any other circumstance than a good old sparring match."

Shamir's throat tightened, and this time the heat in her face burst to flame long before she had a chance to control or hide it. She well remembered what he meant, and she, too, had spent more time than she wanted to admit thinking about it. She hadn't known why she had done it, either. Or if she did, she was simply hiding it from herself now. He had been in pain. He had stumbled. Wasn't it natural to support him? But, then again, it wasn't that simple. The way his eyes held hers, and the way she felt under that scrutiny proved it. And she hated the fact that she was on the opposing end of that intensity, and had no recourse for it. She was not used to feeling helpless, and it made her shake her head as she began without thinking, "Warin, that's-"

"Don't. I said I wasn't going to ask. And I don't want to hear your answer, even if you have one." Warin raised a hand to stop her, and his gaze hardened, though only by a fraction when he spoke. There was still something gentle in his expression, in the crooked curve of his lips, and he shook his head as he continued on in a much more tired voice, "It's... just something I wanted to say, all right? Leave it at that, for my sake, at the very least. I'm just about ready to keel over, just like you said I was. So chalk it up to my mouth moving before my mind could. I'm going to go and get some rest. Forget this conversation ever happened if it makes you feel better."

Shamir didn't know what to say, and so she chose silence as she watched Warin pack up his things and then effortlessly slide himself out of the training grounds without once coming close enough to touch her. She inhaled deeply as the door closed like a thunderclap behind her, and raised a hand to her temples as she felt the beginnings of a headache threatening to rear its head. How was he capable of saying such things? She had no idea. And then to brush it away so easily when he realized he was making her uncomfortable? He had left her floundering, refusing her a chance to reply, and telling her outright to pretend it had happened at all if she wanted to. He was becoming easier to understand, and yet all the more difficult to be around each time they traded words or blows now.

"Forget this? Right... As if that's possible after you go and say something like _that_..." Shamir muttered under her breath as she shook her head, and she hoped that the flush in her face would die down quickly so she could at least pretend to be returning to her barracks for rest before someone spotted her. It was not a state she wanted anyone to find her in, regardless of the odds being far tilted in her favour at the current moment. He was too good at this. As if he had practise. Or perhaps he was just simply too sincere. In either case, he had knocked her clean off of her footing, and she was scrambling desperately to regain it. Her temples throbbed harder, and she shook her head more as she turned for the door, eyes fixed on the ground and lips pursed into a scowl as she muttered to herself, "Don't go ruining a good thing, damn you... I'm not ready for it. Not even remotely."

**AN:**

**What was meant to be a bit more hot turned out to be... surprisingly chill. This story took the reigns out of my hands and wrote itself, but I suppose that's how it goes sometimes. I don't really mind, considering the finished product is roughly what I wanted, even if it took a wholly different route getting there! Shamir really is a calming presence for Warin, though I guess it can't be said for the other way around... XD I'll have a lot of fun writing more of them, but it's kind of sad that I have to wait so damned long to get to the proper timing... Alas. That's how it goes, isn't it?**

**The next piece in the series is where I'm going a tad outside of the usual, with there being three fics that will take part in the next moon, and they'll be put together since they will both be focussing on roughly the same thing. One will be another half and half piece, focussing on the immediate aftermath of "that fight", another will be Warin and Rhea having a little bit of a... tiff... and the last will be focussing on the lingering thoughts and doubts that have all accumulated from the past several stories. They all will again be half-and-half stories, focussing on both of the siblings in their own ways, but it won't be until the third one that Warin and Raine will be having a long sit-down and discussion that's obviously very sorely needed between the two.**

**I know I'm rapidly approaching the moment where things get very real, and I've had several little things pointed out to me and suggested... And I will admit, I do not intend to write Azure Moon simply as it is. I have several ideas to change up the way the story goes (as well as how it will end), but I'm still not sure how I wish to go about it. It's probably going to involve a lot more pieces being fit together, so the whole "one chapter per moon" thing likely is going to be tossed right out the window in order to accommodate that... We'll see how it works, though. There still is time before I get to that point. I can however promise that there are two major events in Azure Moon that I want to address and sort of "fix", and with those events being changed, hopefully the rest of it will fall easily into place and be more believable to follow... Again, I guess I'm just not sure.**

**Still, as always, thank you for reading as far as you have, and should you feel like it, I implore you to drop a review! I always love hearing your feedback, and I promise I do take every single review I'm given into account when I write. I appreciate every single one of my readers, and I am so happy to know that my work is giving you all enjoyment. Have a good one, and I hope I see you again soon!**

**Mood: Anxious.**

**Listening To: "Renegade" - Styx**

**~ Sky**


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